Mango Bob (22 page)

I hung up.

It was getting late. Time to close the shades, get ready for bed.

Bob agreed. He was already in the bed when I got there.

I set the alarm for six thirty. I wanted to get up early, take a walk. Get a feel for the neighborhood.

Then be ready for Sarah at eight thirty.

58

My phone alarm chimed me awake. Time to get up.

Bob was still asleep. He wasn't an early riser.

He was on the bed with one paw over my foot. As I moved he said, “Murrph”. Then he flexed his claws, showing me who was boss.

“Yeah Bob, I know you're there. But I'm getting up anyway.”

Bob said, “Murrph.” Then he moved his paw off my foot, and went back to sleep.

I got up, took care of my morning business. Ran a hand through my hair. Pulled on a sweat shirt, a pair of jeans, and running shoes. Grabbed the keys and wallet and headed out.

It wasn't quite daylight yet. The eastern sky was showing the promise of morning, but stars were still visible in the west.

I slipped out the gate locking it behind me, being as quiet as possible. Didn't want to wake Sarah.

Out on the street, it was eerily still. Not many people up this time of the morning. Which meant it would be a good time to explore the neighborhood.

Remembering the layout of the area from the Google Earth satellite view, my plan was to go to the end of Dearborn where it met Lemon Bay, then follow Old Englewood Road to Lemon Bay Park, and return to Dearborn following the backstreets that lined the bay.

It'd be about three miles and give me a chance to check out the neighborhood and also see the waters of Lemon bay.

As I headed down Dearborn street, I took note of the different shops. An old five and dime. A soda fountain. A hardware store. A barber shop. A few antique stores. Three art galleries.

Not a single franchise fast food joint. No cookie-cutter mall stores. Just a slice of what main street America looked like forty years ago.

This early in the morning, all the shops were closed, except one. The Dearborn Corner Market, at the intersection of Dearborn and Old Englewood Road.

Even at this early hour, it seemed to be doing a brisk business. Trucks pulling fishing boats filled the parking lot. As soon as one pulled out, another pulled in.

As I got closer, I could see why.

In addition to the standard convenience store fare, the Dearborn Corner Market had aerator tanks outside filled with the kind of fresh bait fishermen wanted. Live shrimp.

With the boat launch just three blocks away, it was easy to see why fishermen stopped at the corner market. They could get hot coffee, cold beer, and fresh bait. A fisherman's dream.

I continued my walk to Lemon Bay park, passing through neighborhoods of small well kept homes.

Almost every home had a boat parked in the driveway, and it made sense. Because according to the map at Lemon Bay Park, there were four public boat ramps within seven miles.

All gave immediate access to Lemon Bay and the intracoastal water-way, which led directly to the Gulf of Mexico.

People living in these neighborhoods could launch their boats and jet skis from any of these ramps, and be on the water in minutes.

And unlike other parts of Florida, Englewood didn't have the crime, crowds, and traffic congestion of most coastal areas.

After reviewing the big map at Lemon Bay Park, I headed back toward Dearborn street, where I stopped at the Corner Market.

Inside, I picked out a mesh ball cap, a pair of cheap sunglasses, SPF 50 sun screen, and a 'Englewood, Florida' t-shirt.

The young lady at the checkout said, “Looks like you're planning a day on the water. You need any bait to go with that?”

“No bait today. Just doing some kayaking.”

She said, “It'll be a good day for it. The water's supposed to be calm through this afternoon.

“You need anything else? A lottery ticket?”

“Yeah, a lottery ticket sounds good. I'm new to Florida though. What should I get?”

“Get a Florida Lottery Quick Pic. And a Power Ball. That'll cover both lottery draws tomorrow.”

“OK, I'll take one of each.”

“Total for all this along with the lottery tickets will be $37.95.”

I paid with two twenties.

Handing me change, the cashier said, “Good luck with the lottery. And welcome to Florida.”

I nodded, “Thanks.”

Back outside, I checked the shrimp in the fish tanks. Looked pretty much like what we had eaten the night before. But these were still alive and still had their heads with their black beady eyes.

It was now almost 7:30. The sun was up, the sky was a deep blue, and the temperature was in the mid fifties and starting to climb. From the market to my motorhome was a easy five minute walk.

If I timed it right, I should be able to get back, shower, shave, eat breakfast, and still have a few minutes before meeting Sarah for the Kayak session.

Back at the boat yard, the lights in Sarah's apartment weren't on. This meant I had plenty of time to get ready.

As I unlocked the door to the motorhome home, Bob came running from the back and said, “Murrph.”

I gave him a rub, and he turned and walked toward the bathroom. “MURRPH”. This time much louder.

Apparently he wanted me to follow him.

I did.

When I caught up with him, he was rubbing against the bathroom door, still talking to me. “MURRRPHH!”

His food bowl was empty. His litter box full.

I poured him some food. Then found the plastic litter scoop and scooped large clumps of kitty poop from the litter box into an empty Walmart shopping bag.

After cleaning the little dumplings from the litter box, I tied off the top of the bag, took it to the front door, and dropped it outside. I'd deal with that later.

Bob checked his freshly cleaned box, and said, “Murrph.” He was pleased. Then he climbed back into bed. He'd done his duty by alerting me to my chores. Now he needed his rest.

For me, it was time for a quick shower, which meant moving Bob's litter box out of the shower stall and into the hallway. With that completed, I undressed, turned on the shower and got in.

There was no hot water. I had forgotten to turn on the water heater. Since I was already wet, a quick cold shower would have to do.

I followed the cold shower with a cold shave. Then put on jeans, tennis shoes, my new t-shirt, with a sweat shirt over.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I remembered to move Bob's litter box back into the shower stall. He'd be upset if I forgot to do that.

For breakfast, I had cold cereal. A bowl of Kashi GoLean Crunch in white grape juice. Sounds strange, but tastes pretty good.

Just as I was finishing up, I heard Sarah at the door, “Walker. Time to get up. We've got work to do.”

Through the open window I replied, “I'm up. Just enjoying a little breakfast with Bob. You eaten yet?”

“Yep, eggs and juice. About an hour ago.”

“OK. I'll be right out.”

Outside, Sarah was busy wiping the morning dew off the kayaks. When she saw me she said, “Morning sleepyhead. You ready to go out on the water?”

“Sure am. Been up for three hours. Checked out Dearborn street and Lemon Bay Park early this morning.”

“Good to hear you've got all that energy. It'll come in handy later on.

“So here's the deal. Before we go out to meet clients, we have to get everything ready. We start by getting all the boats on the trailer. Then we make sure we have paddles and life-jackets for each boat.”

“After that, we make sure we have a first aid kit, extra hats, sun screen, and dry towels. And a twelve pack of bottled water. Everything goes into the truck.

“Once the truck is loaded, we hook up the trailer and head out.”

“We're scheduled to meet our group at Indian Mound Park at 9:30. We want to get there twenty minutes early to reserve our spot.”

Sarah was loading the truck and pointing things out as she was telling me this.

She said, “OK, the truck's loaded, Time to get the trailer hitched up. See if you can do it by yourself.”

It didn't look too difficult. The trailer was pretty light, and all I needed to do was to pull it close to the truck, drop the hitch on the ball, lock the ball, and connect the safety chains.

Sarah inspected my work. “Good job. Looks like you've done this before.”

“Many times.” I didn't mention that during my tours in Afghanistan, we hitched far heavier trailers carrying weapons and gear every day.

Sarah looked at me, “You wearing jeans? We're going to be in the water. They're going to get wet. And heavy with the salt.”

“Yeah, I know. But jeans and long pants are all I have. Haven't had time to get short pants yet.”

“OK, they'll have to do. But maybe if you buy me lunch, I'll take you Florida clothes shopping later on today.”

I smiled, “Yeah, that sounds like fun. Anything else I need this morning?”

Sarah nodded, “Sunscreen, hat, sunglasses.”

“They're in the coach. I'll get them.”

I went back to the motorhome, checked on Bob. Made sure he had plenty of water. The perfect weather meant I could leave the windows open for Bob. He'd like that.

On my way out, I grabbed the sunscreen, my new ball-cap, sunglasses and keys. Didn't think I'd need my cell phone. So left it in the charger.

As always, I locked the door behind me.

Sarah was waiting, “Nice looking hat. Where'd you get it?”

“At the Dearborn Corner Market this morning. And while I was there, I got something for you.”

I pulled out the two lottery tickets from my wallet and handed them to Sarah.

“Lottery tickets?”

“Yeah, you said last night you needed to win the lottery to get the boat you wanted. So here you go.”

Sarah took the tickets, “Thanks. Maybe today is my lucky day. ”

59

I opened the gate and Sarah drove the truck pulling the trailer out into the street. I locked the gate behind her, and got in the truck.

She asked, “The gate locked?”

“Yep. Double checked it.”

“Good. We always lock it when we leave.”

“So here's the deal. Today we've got a class at Indian Mound Park on Lemon Bay. It's about five minutes from here.

“There are four women in the class and they want to learn the basics of kayaking.

“I'll be doing the training, and you'll be my assistant. Your job is to unload the boats, do whatever I ask.

“If anyone in the class asks you questions, you refer them to me. That way they'll understand I'm the lead and you're the assistant.

“Now, these are older ladies, and if you want to flirt with them, that's okay. But nothing more than innocent flirting, understood?”

“Got it. You're the leader. I'm the assistant. Easy on the flirting.”

At Indian Mound Park we drove past the boat launch to a parking area that adjoined a small sandy beach.

As I started to get out, Sarah stopped me, “Hang on. No need to start unloading until the clients get here.”

I nodded, “Okay. Just tell me when.”

Sarah pointed over her shoulder. “There's a rest room over there. If you need to go, now's a good time. Before we get out on the water.”

“Maybe I'll check it out. Be right back.”

The restrooms were sparse, but had the necessary facilities. Adjacent to the restrooms, an information kiosk provided some history about Indian Mound Park.

According to the kiosk, the park was the site of several prehistoric shell middens, dating back more than three thousand years.

The original mounds were built by native tribes, using discarded clam and oyster shells which were abundant in the bay.

In addition to providing safe areas during tidal flooding, the shell middens provided shelter during the frequent tropical storms.

Today, the middens are still very visible, albeit covered by several feet of top soil.

When I returned to the truck, Sarah was talking with two older women.

“Ladies, this is Walker. He's helping us out today. If you have any questions about kayaking, ask me. If you need something hauled or lifted, Walker's your guy.”

The two ladies smiled, introduced themselves.

Sarah turned to me, “Walker, time to unload the boats. Get them off the trailer and line them up on the beach over there. Leave about three feet between each boat.”

Then she smiled, “If you need any help lifting them, let me know.”

I went to the trailer and started unloading the boats. Each weighed about forty pounds. Easy to handle.

It was about thirty feet from the trailer to the small beach. I carried each boat over and lined them up as instructed by Sarah.